Once Upon A Halloween Ball
by JessicaBrennan
Summary: A/U-It's a Halloween Ball for charity and they are auctioning off men for dates, so who will bid on Four Eaton? (DISCONTINUED)
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N-So it's Halloween and I had originally planned to add a few new Halloween theme stories at the beginning of this week, but I had a health issue and family, work, you know...life. I'm sorry they are late and I'm trying to finish the next chapter of Mated, it will be short, sorry. If you would like to have more of these Halloween theme (sort of) just let me know in review and let me know what you think of these. Thank you and Happy Halloween to all, and be safe! Ty to Lynn for staying up this morning with some coffee to beta read these. Love you girlie. And if you have read A Dauntless Ball, they might be a little similar but they will go in opposite directions.)**

 **(Edit 2/4/19-I re-did a little of this, so hopefully it's a little better as I got a little lost in how to continue this, but now there's more coming real soon.)**

* * *

It was Halloween and Tris Prior had just gotten off the phone with a client that wanted to speak with her main boss, Four Eaton of Eaton Enterprises, a global management consulting and professional services. And at that moment, Four walked out of the elevator and from the looks of it he wasn't in a good mood.

"Get me Max Collins on the phone immediately," Four barked as he marched into Uriah Pedrad's, Tris' supervisor's office, shutting it behind him as he did so.

Tris waited no time and quickly got Max on the phone and put the call through to Uriah for Four. She could hear his voice raised as he talked to Max. "I know it's for a good cause, Max. It's just last minute to spring this on me. No Max, I don't read my emails that's why Lauren does it for me. How would I know if she reminded me?"

Tris had to laugh at that.

"Fine, I'll go. Yes, I know it's good for my image. What do you mean a playboy image by the way?"

Tris thought of how every week Four was in the paper with some model on his arm going to some function of some sort.

"Fine. I'll have Lauren pick me out a costume. I'll call you tomorrow," Four said as he obviously ended the call.

"Damnit!" Four yelled from inside. Some of the other workers stopped in their tracks outside the office, but Tris knew to just stay out of his way until he cooled off. Tris was almost done typing a report for Uriah when Christina texted her.

 _Christina: So how is the Beast?_

 _Tris: Snarky as usual. How is your day going?_

Christina was her best friend and worked as a nurse at a local hospital.

 _Christina: Not too bad. Hey guess who got tickets to the Paws of Hope event tonight?_

 _Tris: Nice. Is Will taking you?_

 _Christina: No he's out of town. I was thinking my bestie might want to go with me?_

 _Tris: Are you serious? But I don't have anything to wear for that._

 _Christina: You're talking to your own fashion guide. Leave work early and come by around five and we'll get you ready. And it's a costume party and I know just the outfit for you._

 _***PAGEBREAK***_

A few hours later the two female friends were just getting off the elevator at the Hilton in downtown Chicago. One was a bundle of excitement and the other was well...nervous.

"I don't belong here," Tris said.

"Nonsense, just mingle like they are all here to meet you," Christina said as they started to make their way down the long staircase that overlooked the ballroom below it. The ballroom was decorated in fall colors, with cobwebs and jack o'latterns all around. The windows were cracked to let in the cool, night air.

Christina was wearing catwoman costume, while Tris was dressed up as Cleopatra.

"I shouldn't be here," Tris said as she stopped walking on the staircase.

"Tris, stop it. You look beautiful. Now relax, you're the Queen of everything here," Christina said as they continued their way down.

***PAGEBREAK***

Four was thinking about sneaking out of the party when his eyes locked on a woman coming down the stairs, there were two of them actually, but only one had his attention. Perfect breasts threatening to spill from the elaborate dress she was wearing. She smiled quite bashfully, as young men vying for her attention immediately swarmed around her. She was obviously Cleopatra, only with blonde hair and he, well he was Mark Antony.

Four couldn't peel his eyes from the woman. There was something familiar about this woman, but he couldn't quite place it. He tried to imagine what she would look like without the feathered mask covering most of her face, without her hair piled elaborately on her head, and without the ornate gown covering her delectable curves. It was driving him crazy; he was sure that he knew her.

He had come to this event to try to help animal shelters in the city along with his own image. He was about to make his way over to where this mystery lady was when he was stopped by one of the presenters of the event.

"Mr. Eaton, it's your turn," she said.

Four had done a few things he regretted in his life, but he had a feeling this one might top the list. The spotlight shone in his eyes, but he smiled as he'd been instructed and gave a sweeping bow before making his way onto the stage. Applause—and a few cheers that he suspected were from his friends greeted him

"Alright ladies, we have one of the most sought after bachelors in the city of Chicago, up next for your bidding attention. This is Four Eaton," the emcee said. "We'll start the bidding at two hundred dollars,"

Four sucked in a breath. And so it begins. Step one of rehabilitating his image—donate his time to charity. And besides it was for a good cause, he loved animals-dogs in particular.

"What do I hear for Four?" the emcee, a sitcom actor, called out. "Four Eaton built Eaton Enterprises from the beginning, we're sure you'll enjoy a date with him."

A murmur went around the crowded room as several white paddles with black numbers shot into the air. He couldn't see too much detail past the spotlight that shone down on him, but it seemed that the place was full, and that the waiters were keeping the guests' drinks topped off as they moved through the crowd.

"Two fifty, three hundred," the emcee called.

Four spotted his best friend Zeke sitting with his fiancée, Shauna—give him a thumbs-up. Zeke had found him as soon as he had arrived, and enjoyed teasing him over being auctioned off.

Which had led him to this moment. On stage in front of hundreds of people. Being sold.

"Five hundred and fifty," the emcee said, pointing at a redhead near the side of the room, whose paddle said sixty-three.

Four threw Sixty-Three a wink, and then crossed to where a blonde woman held up her paddle. The emcee called, "Six hundred."

Four squinted against the lights. It was her! Cleopatra from the staircase. There was something familiar about the blonde. He dug one hand in his pocket and flashed a charming smile at the audience—a smile he'd been using to effect since he was fourteen. He was starting not to mind being on stage after all.

"Six fifty," the emcee called. "Seven hundred dollars. Seven fifty."

Four groaned as he saw who had the lead now. Jeanine Mathews. She was sleaze on top of sleaze. He knew Jeanine wanted to just paw at him and parade him around like a puppy.

"Three thousand four hundred."

It was Cleopatra. Four tried to study her more to try to figure out who she was. She looked beautiful. In his pocket where the audience couldn't see, he crossed his fingers that she won. He could spend an enjoyable evening with her, a nice meal, maybe a drive under the moonlight.

"Four thousand six hundred."

A flash bulb went off and he smiled, but he needed to get the bidding higher for the shelter. He ambled over to the emcee and indicated with a tilt of his head that he had something to say. She covered the mic with her hand and lowered it.

"Make it three dates," he said, his voice low.

Her eyebrows shot up, and then she nodded and raised the mic again. "I've just received information that the package up for auction now consists of three dates."

Over the next few minutes, there was another flurry of raised paddles before the emcee finally said, "Going once, going twice, sold for eight thousand two hundred dollars."

Four realized he'd stopped following the bidding and had no idea who'd won.

"Number six, you can meet Mr. Eaton at the side of the stage to make arrangements. Next we have a sports star who will need no introduction." The emcee's voice faded into the background as Four realized the blonde beauty had made the top bid. He grinned.

Maybe turning his reputation around and doing his bit for charity wouldn't be so bad after all.

"What did I just do?" Tris said out loud. Something had come over her, when she had saw all those other women bidding on Four.

"You just won your boss," Christina said, clapping her hands.

"What am I going to do?" Tris asked. She had just spent thousands of dollars, granted she had the money that her grandmother had left for her since she was a child. And it was for a good cause.

"Go get him," Christina said as she elbowed her friend towards the side of the stage where Four waited for her.

Tris took the steps very slowly, she couldn't believe she had done this. Okay so she might have had a small crush on her boss for the last few years, okay since she saw him for the first time when she came to work for him. He had at first intimidated her but the last few years she had tried to keep a mask on her feelings for him. Yes, he was good looking and he knew it, but there was more to him. He was extremely passionate about everything in his life.

But that was all out of her mind right now, as she steeled herself and struck out her hand to greet him. "Hello," Tris said.

Four took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss on the back. "I'm Four, and, on behalf of the shelter, I wanted to thank you for your donation tonight."

He gave her a slow smile and her insides melted, but she tried to ignore her body's reaction. Her body didn't realize that Four was a notorious charmer who had probably used that exact smile on countless women. Which was why her brain was in charge. Well, she thought as she looked into his twinkling blue eyes, mostly in charge. He had never looked at her like that at work, but now he was looking at her as if he, as if he...thought she was beautiful.

Four released her hand and straightened. "I have a few ideas about places we could go on our first date—"

Tris shook her head. "I don't want the date."

He arched an eyebrow. "Then why did you bid on me?"

"I just wanted..." Tris stammered.

"Me?" Four asked. He grinned, but this time it wasn't a charmer's smile. It was genuine. She liked this one more—she could imagine getting into all sorts of mischief with the man wearing that grin.

"A woman of mystery," he said, rocking back on his heels. "Nice. Okay, so I'll try to see if I can get your name."

"No name," Tris said.

"No name as well? Well than what should I call you? Six or Cleopatra?" Four asked.

"Six and Four," Tris murmured.

"Would you care to dance?" An air of authority rang through his quiet words. Even the way the other men backed off when he approached hinted at his unmistakable power.

Tris felt that her heart was hammering in her chest. The man that she had fantasized about constantly for the past few years was asking her to dance. She was so aware of him sexually that it hurt. He extended his hand toward her and she took it automatically, as if she had no choice in the matter. He smiled lazily at her as his eyes slowly descended, burning a trail down her body. Her stomach flip-flopped nervously as he stared at her barely contained breasts.

She felt his warm hand on her lower back as he guided her to the dance floor. He pulled her close in a fairly intimate grasp as their steps immediately fell into synch with the flowing music. Her breasts were crushed up against his hard body. She saw him glance downward, still fascinated with the creamy flesh of her cleavage spilling out of the daring gown. She blushed as my nipples responded to his gaze, growing taut and hard. She hoped he couldn't see them through the silky fabric of her dress.

He smiled slowly, as if enjoying a secret, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear. His words caused little shivers to run down her spine. "Are you enjoying the evening?"

She smiled hesitantly, not sure if her identity was still a secret. "Yes, very much so."

"No goblins or ghost after you tonight?" Four asked as he watched her smile.

"None so far," Tris said.

"Well, you seem to have quite a number of admirers. I hope I didn't steal you away from any of them?"

His mouth so near to her sensitive ear was wreaking havoc on her control. Her voice warbled slightly, "No, not at all. I am enjoying our dance."

His fingers caressed her arm, rubbing lightly. "Despite the disguise these masks afford, I am sure that we have not met before. I would never forget such a beautiful woman as yourself… or forget such an exquisite body." He punctuated his remark with a quick nibble to her ear lobe almost causing me to mis-step.

The pent up nervousness Tris felt in his presence evaporated as his words slowly sunk into her over-stimulated brain. He hadn't recognized her! And why would he? She looked completely different in this elaborate costume.

Tris would die of embarrassment if he knew who she was, but now she could enjoy this little secret. "No, I don't believe we have met."

He watched as her eyes sparkled as he twirled her around the dance floor. He took every opportunity he could to caress her waist, rub her arm or brush an errant lock of hair from her face just to see her blush. When the song ended, he held her firmly by the elbow and led her off the floor. A cold hard stare was enough to keep any other men from approaching. He watched as she had grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a long gulp.

Four could see that the alcohol was starting to take affect. "You should take it easy, Six." He took the glass gently from her fingers.

He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her out the French doors onto the patio. . She walked lightly at his side, occasionally glancing up to stare at him. He patted her hand as he led her right to a secluded spot among the greenery. She was smiling dreamily when he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her against his body. He dipped his head and took her mouth as it opened in a little O shape of surprise. Her initial resistance melted as his tongue explored her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair, as he deepened the kiss.

His fingers slid up her arms and brushed across the tops of her straining breasts. He ran a palm over the top of her dress, feeling her hard tight nipples beneath the silky material. He dipped a finger under the fabric of her bodice, flicking a taut nipple. While his tongue explored her delicious mouth, he felt her soft moan.

Just then loud laughter pealed out into the night air. Someone was approaching them. Four watched as her face turned from passionate to alarmed as she slowly regained focus. She quickly fixed her dress. "I…I need to go." She turned and began hurrying back toward the ballroom.

Four gritted his teeth and went after her. He caught up to her, nodding at another couple enjoying the night air, and took her elbow. "What's the big hurry, Six?"

Tris practically pulled him over to the doors. "I just don't want to miss any of the party."

He could feel her trying to disengage her arm, but he didn't want to let her go that easily. "Would you like to dance again?"

Four could see her mind working furiously for an excuse to leave him. She scanned the ballroom looking for a way out. Suddenly, Four felt her whole body tense and her face turn pale. He looked across the room to see what had made her so frightened.

It was a man Four recognized. Uriah Pedrad. And he was heading straight this way. He wondered why Six was practically jumping out of her skin at his approach. He watched as Uriah got way laid by someone at the same time that Tris twisted out of his grasp. She mumbled something to him as she shot away through the crowd out of his reach.

He bumped through the crowd, trying to keep her small form in view. She was obviously trying to escape, but why? He followed her as she came to the opposite end of the ballroom and slipped through a door on the far wall. By the time Four reached the door and entered, she was out of sight.

As Four turned around to look for Uriah, he saw him being dragged by a dark haired woman to the elevators. Four ran to try to reach them before the doors closed but he was too late. Tonight was definitely not his night.

Trick of Treat?

Well, his treat had escaped him.

He would have a talk with Uriah Monday and found out if he had known who the woman Four was with.


	2. Chapter 2

_**(A/N-Thanks to Lynn for beta reading this. And ty to those who read, review, follow and fav. So sorry for the delay.)**_

* * *

She was a mess of nerves.

On Monday morning, Tris sat at her desk, responding to emails and organizing herself for the day and the

week ahead. Walking into the office had been hairy—everyone had been talking about the ball, laughing about the night's revelries. She'd purposely avoided talk of the ball, hinting at a quiet night at home and had waited with breath frozen in her lungs for someone to out her. If anyone had recognized her, this was it. But her colleagues just expressed their sympathies that she'd missed the event of the year and drifted away to talk among themselves.

She was mid-sentence in a response to a lengthy email when the phone rang. She propped the phone up to her ear, still typing, with her train of thought still focused on her detailed reply. "Ms Prior?" Four's voice belted down the line faster than she could make her own greeting. Her body tensed on a shiver and the phone dropped from her shoulder, landing on the desk with a loud thunk. The noise snapped her out of her temporary paralysis and she grappled for the receiver. Why was Four calling her?

Did he know? Had Uriah recognized her after all and informed Four of her identity?

"What the— Ms. Prior, is that you?"

"S-sorry," she stammered. "The phone slipped."

She heard something like an exasperated sigh and could imagine the rolling of eyes going on at the other end of the line.

"Ms. Prior, I need you in my office. Now."

Tris clutched the phone. She wasn't ready for this. How was she going to explain what had happened? She was bound to get the sack over this.

"Are you still there?"

She swallowed. 'I'll be right up," she croaked.

Four slapped the phone down, regarding it critically. What was her problem? He hoped he wasn't making a big mistake over this.

He turned back to Uriah, who was waiting anxiously in the chair opposite, looking nervous. Right now Four knew the feeling. He'd had it ever since the woman had abandoned him on at the ball. No one had ever walked out on him before—that was bad enough. But right now there was a woman out there who'd done even more than that—she'd run out on him and he didn't even have a clue who she was.

She'd been swallowed up by the night. What was her game? Why had she run away like that? Why had she panicked? Together they had acted like they had been together for years.

A perfect fit.

He'd been cheated of exploring that knowledge further. He'd been cheated of seeing how far they could take each other. He'd been cheated of seeing all her beauty, inside and out. Could it be that she'd recognized him? Was that what had scared her off? Suddenly afraid of being with the company founder and CEO she'd fled? He didn't like it one bit—the prospect of her knowing his identity when he had no idea who she was or where to start looking for her. He studied the man sitting nervously opposite him.

But Uriah might.

He might know. And if Uriah didn't someone else had to. She'd been there a rose among the thorns. Someone had to have spoken to her, someone had to know who she was.

"Uriah," Four said, adding a smile for good measure. "Did you have a good time at the ball?"

Uriah chortled and sat up, eager to please. "A great time. Wonderful party. Just wonderful. The staff are very grateful to you—"

Four held up one hand. "Good, that's fine. But I wonder if you can help me with something."

"Anything—name it."

"Only there's someone there I meant to catch up with before the end but I missed her. She was dressed up as Cleopatra. Blonde hair, white gown—sound familiar at all?"

"Too right, she does," said Uriah enthusiastically before he suddenly frowned. "Not sure where she got to, actually—one moment she was there and the next—poof—she was gone."

Four felt his pulse kick up. He was on the trail. Hot on the trail. She wouldn't stay out of his clutches for long. "And her name," he prompted. "Can you tell me her name?"

Uriah thought for a moment. "She did tell me." He looked at the ceiling and scratched his chin while Four resisted the urge to slam his fist down onto his desk. If he thought it would jog his memory the fist would have won hands down.

"Oh, that's it. I remember now." Uriah looked triumphant. Four tried to remain seated.

"And?"

"Natalie, from the Sydney office I think she said. Didn't catch a surname. She was a little bit wary of going in—must have been off-putting, not knowing anybody at one of those things. Awkward when you hardly know a soul. She came in with us but then we lost contact with her." He frowned, contemplating his nails. "Wonder where she got to?"

Four knew something of where she'd disappeared to. He'd asked her to dance and at first she'd seemed reluctant but then something had changed and she'd moved like warm chocolate in his arms—soft, luscious and ready to be consumed.

It had been like a dream. Holding her in his ars had been everything he'd anticipated with the promise of more, even more mind-blowing. And then she'd gone and his evening had turned into a nightmare.

Uriah continued to prattle on, openly contemplating where Natalie might have gone. Four ignored him, diving instead for his internal phone directory, scouring the lists The Sydney office wasn't large and the name didn't ring any bells but the way this company was growing there was no way he could keep up with all the new staff.

He made one unsuccessful pass through. No luck. Too fast, he decided, and set his eyes to something less than warp speed as he scanned the lists.

No Natalie!

He picked up the phone, oblivious to the stream of consciousness coming from Uriah's direction. "Lauren," he snapped as soon as she answered, "have we taken on anyone recently in the Sydney office called Natalie? There's no one on the phone lists."

He waited the few seconds while Lauren responded in the negative before then throwing the phone down in disgust.

"Are you sure it was Natalie?"

"What? Oh, er…" Uriah said, then paused before nodding his head. "Pretty sure. I tend to take more notice of what people say when they're such stunners, if you get my drift."

Four sent him a look that would curdle milk and watched Uriah shrink down in his chair with some satisfaction. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought that every other man in the room had felt the same powerful attraction to his mystery woman. "No, I'm not sure I do."

But what Uriah had said bothered him. His mystery woman had chosen a fake name to go with her fake outfit. Now how was he going to find her?

It had to be someone who worked in the company. One of maybe three hundred women. Half of them he could write off as being too old, a good percentage of those left didn't have the same kind of head turning figure. There couldn't be more than one hundred who'd qualify. He'd find her, whatever it took. And when he found her…

A tap at the door shifted his attention from Uriah.

'You wanted to see me?'

Miss Mouse stood at the door, looking even more timid than her creature companion as her eyes scampered around the room, settling finally somewhere near Uriah.

"Ms. Prior," Four said, turning his mind back to business. "I've been waiting for you. Come in."

She took tentative mouse steps across the room, finally lowering herself into a vacant chair alongside Uriah. She was wearing the same brown jacket as the first time he'd met her, but this time with matching trousers. They fitted her better than the skirt; at least they gave some sense that she had legs, decent ones by the look, under all that tweed.

For just a second his gaze narrowed, his thoughts scrambling for sense. Surely she couldn't be one of the one hundred most likely? He looked to her face, pink and shy, her lips tight and her eyes skittering from side to side.

No, no chance. But she might know who his Cleopatra was. "Were you at the ball on the weekend?"

She jumped as if she'd been shot but it was Uriah who responded. "Tris wasn't there."

Four looked from Uriah to Tris. "Why was that?"

"Well, you see," she said, licking her lips, not wanting to add lying to her list of transgressions, "my mother isn't well…"

He seemed to think about it for a while and then he nodded.

Tris couldn't wait to get out of there. She wasn't sure what had just happened here, but it looked as if she'd managed to survive, her secret identity intact.

"So," she said. "If that's all?" Her hands were already pushing her up out of the chair.

"No, that's not all. Sit down."

She obeyed him, not because she wanted to, but more to do with the fact that her knees had turned to jelly, the exhilaration at her near escape evaporating.

"I asked you in here because I need someone to work closely on a new project with me. After that presentation you delivered the other week, I figure you're just the person for the job so I asked Uriah if he could do without you for a few days."

She looked desperately at the man next to her. Surely he wouldn't let anyone else get an opportunity this good? "And Uriah said?"

"Uriah said he couldn't spare you."

She let go of a breath she'd been holding. Good old Uriah—never let someone else get an opportunity you might want yourself. Maybe he wasn't such a bad supervisor after all.

"But I told him he had no choice."

His words were like a punch to her lungs and she scrambled for air in the wake of his announcement.

"So it's all settled. Four turned to Uriah and gave him a brief nod and a look that had him dismissed and heading for the door before Four turned his focus back on her. "Lauren will arrange to have your work station things moved up here—there's a spare office just down the hall. We've got three days before we have to be in Vancouver for meetings. We have to move fast on this. It's an opportunity too good to miss. Dalcorp is a rapidly growing business whose needs have outstripped their current systems. If we get on the ground floor with this company, it will be worth millions to us.'

"But..." Vancouver. With Four. She gulped. No, that was the last thing she needed. "But I can't…"

He looked up sharply. "Can't what?"

"I can't go with you."

"'What do you mean?"

I don't want to go with you!

"Well, for one thing I can't just up and leave my mother. I told you. She's ill."

"So who looks after her now, while you're at work?"

"No one." She noticed the victorious look in his eyes, as if he'd just scored a winning goal in the dying minutes of a soccer game. "But I don't like to leave her alone at night, just the same."

"I don't want anyone else for this presentation. I want you."

"Well, you're just going to have to find someone else. I can't go. I won't go."

"I see."

The grinding of his teeth told her he didn't see at all.

"And what's the other reason?"

She looked up, confused. "Other reason?"

"You said before, for one thing you had to look after your mother. What's the other reason you don't want to come to Vancouver with me?"

"Oh." She shrugged as she felt the color and heat flood back to her face. "It's just a… a figure of speech."

His piercing eyes continued to assess her, as if weighing up her words, stripping right through the layers of her deceit. But he couldn't see that far. He didn't know. He couldn't know.

She shrugged. "What other reason could there be?"

"Are you worried I might seduce you? Is that what this is about?"

Her lungs sucked in air like a drowning woman coming up for oxygen.

"Because, let me assure you, there is no chance of that. Absolutely no chance. This is a business deal. I need your professional help, so if that's what's worrying you, forget it. Right now."

Tris battled to regain her mental balance. There he was trying to put her mind at rest. If only he knew! She could ignore the implication that she wasn't worth seducing if she didn't have to explain her real reasons for not wanting to go with him.

"Of course. That's what I'd expect."

"Good. Now that we've established that, once I arrange for round-the-clock nursing for your mother, I take it you'll have no objections to accompanying me?"

His words were framed as a question but the tone he used made them more like a challenge. She opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out.

"Fine," he said. "That looks like it's settled then."

He picked up the phone and started issuing instructions to Lauren regarding moving Tris' office upstairs, arranging their flight bookings and organizing a round-the-clock nursing service. She sat there, looking across at him, her blood heating at his complete disrespect of her wishes, not to mention her desires.

She still hadn't agreed to go with him. How was her mother going to react to having a stranger in the house, even if there was the bonus that she'd have someone to look after her twenty-four hours a day? He hadn't even given Tris the chance to ask her.

"How dare you?" she said, rising to her feet as finally he returned the phone to the cradle. "How dare you make arrangements for my family to suit yourself? How would you like it if I went around organizing your family, so you could fall in with whatever my plans were?"

He looked up at her, his eyes for once strangely empty.

"If that pleases you, go right ahead. But you might have some trouble. My whole family was wiped out when I was nine years old."


	3. Chapter 3

_**(A/N-Thanks so much to all who read, review, follow and fav this. Also thanks to Lynn for beta reading this.)**_

* * *

The words hung between them like lead weights in the still air of the climate-controlled office, the hum of his laptop the only sound.

"I'm sorry," she said, standing there awkwardly, unsure whether to stay or leave.

"Don't be," he said without looking up. "It wasn't your fault."

"No, I mean…" Her hands found each other, together they wrestled for the right words. 'I mean—"

"Forget it," he said with a sweep of his hand, as if it meant nothing to him. "We've got a lot to get through today so I suggest you get yourself organized. I want you back here in half an hour so we can get started."

Fine, she thought, whatever you say, her compassion evaporating at his dry tone. She nodded though she was sure he didn't notice; his head was already focused on the papers in front of him. She turned to leave.

"Oh, and Ms. Prior-"

"Yes?"

"Do you have anything to wear that's not grey?"

Tris looked down at her jacket and trousers. Okay, so what was wrong with her clothes? Maybe the suit didn't have an expensive label, but it was a good name brand and it had been an absolute bargain, even if the jacket was a size too large.

"You have a problem with grey?" She could, of course, tell him she had a little Egyptian number stashed away at home waiting to be returned that was a real crowd pleaser, but somehow she didn't think that was what he had in mind.

"This deal's worth a lot. The people we'll be dealing with are real high-flyers. We should look the part. Do you have anything suitable?"

Meaning she should look the part. His suit smacked of designer while hers screamed bargain basement. She mentally flicked through her wardrobe's contents.  
"I don't know," she said honestly. "What will I need?"

He barely looked up. "See Lauren later. She'll have the schedule and you can work out what you have to get and go shopping this afternoon after we've worked out a strategy. I'll arrange an allowance."

"Fine," she said, feeling totally aggrieved, ramming her glasses up her nose defiantly as she turned on her heel. "I just hope it's enough."

****PAGEBREAK****

It was more than enough. Tris surveyed the figure on the letter of authority Lauren handed her with shock. Surely someone had made a mistake?

"I think there's one too many zeroes," Tris suggested.

Enid glanced over, eyes peering through her bifocals. 'No, that's right. Now there are three boutiques listed where this authority is valid. They should be able to supply everything you need. If you have to go elsewhere, keep the receipts and you'll be reimbursed.'

'But this is a fortune.'

Lauren smiled at the younger woman. "He just wants you to look nice. It's important to him."

"It's important to the deal, more like it," she said, certain that nothing Four thought about her would be personal. It would all relate to business.

The other woman's head tilted to one side.

"I think you'll find he's right. This deal's very important to the company and we have to do everything we can to ensure it comes off. I'm quite sure you'll feel more confident and more professional with a couple of new outfits and much more capable of holding your own. And I know Four can seem a little tactless at times. But you mustn't take it too seriously. He simply hasn't had the same start most of us have had."

If Tris hadn't heard his comment about losing his family earlier, she'd think Lauren was mad. The guy was a multimillionaire, for goodness' sake, and here was someone practically feeling sorry for him.

Could Lauren be right? The question plagued Tris' mind as she spent the next two hours searching for outfits suitable for meetings, possible cocktail parties and flash dinners in boutiques she'd only ever dreamed about entering before.

Was the early tragedy in his life the reason why he was so driven to succeed? So demanding of everyone around him? Was he trying to show the world he could make it on his own? Was that why he rode roughshod over everyone else's feelings—because his own had been so desperately and critically shattered at such a tender age?

Whoa! Next thing she'd be feeling sorry for him too. She didn't need that—not with the secret of last weekend playing on her mind.

And she couldn't afford to feel anything for Four. If he'd thought he was easing her mind by declaring there was no way he'd be tempted to seduce her, he had another think coming.

He'd no doubt thought he was being considerate, allaying a sweet innocent nobody's fears of seduction at the hands of her boss. When it was already too late for that. Much too late.

All he'd done was insult her. Making love with Tris Prior was never going to happen.

How reassuring! He'd made it clear that the man she couldn't stop fantasizing about had her pegged around at the level of the woman least likely. How flattering—and yet here she was, supposed to feel relieved.

And all he'd done was to reinforce her resolve not to reveal her secret. Given his attitude he would be less impressed with the revelation. Clearly he would be embarrassed at the thought—probably even humiliated. Well, she would save them both that. She would forget it had ever happened. He need never know.

She sighed, fed up with both shopping and with the direction her thoughts were going. Spending two days in Four's company would be bad enough. But to spend one night away—that could only be worse. She would have to do her best to remain cool, aloof and totally professional and with any luck he'd treat her with his usual professional disregard.

That was a laugh. There was no way she was ever going to be able to forget that.

****PAGEBREAK****

She was late. The plane was due to take off in less than half an hour and she was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't have changed her mind—he'd arranged everything. The last time he'd spoken to her she'd even admitted that the live in nurse Lauren had organized was wonderful and that her mother was totally relaxed about the whole arrangement.

Not so Ms. Prior. He could still see the nervous pinch to her lips, the strain in her face so evident whenever they'd discussed the upcoming trip. What was really bothering her? She couldn't be worried about him coming on to her. Hadn't he assured her this was purely a business trip? She wasn't his type for a start. Sure, she was great at her job but he had no more intention of seducing her than he would ask someone to marry him. It just wasn't going to happen.

In any event, he preferred his women lush, sexy and temporary, like that Cleopatra—her outfit accommodating, her attitude willing.

Who the hell was she anyway? Two days of scouring staff lists and making discreet enquiries had got him absolutely nowhere. His mystery woman remained that, a mystery. All he had was the memory of her, her the feel of her pressed against him. His body responded to the images in his mind and he cursed low and rough as he helped himself to a cup of espresso.

He hadn't had enough of her, not by a long shot, but thinking about her now wasn't going to help him.

He lifted his head, scouring the airline club lounge once more as he emptied a stick of sugar into his cup but there was no sign of Ms. Prior.

Damn, where the hell could she be?

A blonde in a pale green dress approached the coffee station and he moved away to make room for her.

"I was wondering when you were going to get here.'"

He swung back, coffee sloshing over the side of his cup. He steadied it with his other hand. His brain wasn't so easy to get a handle on. Ms. Prior?

Sure enough it was her grey eyes staring up at him, but they looked different. She looked different. He blinked.

"I booked one of the offices so we could go over the paperwork—just this way."

He followed her into the small office, wondering just what had happened to his little brown mouse. She still smelled the same, the now familiar apricot scent wafting freshly in her wake. It was her looks that had changed. Her hair, uncharacteristically worn down, was shoulder-length and feathered at the ends.

He was seated at the desk before he could talk. "You look—different," he said at last.

She smiled, almost as if self-conscious, as her gaze flicked over the outfit. "I hope it's appropriate. I know business is a little more relaxed in Vancouver."

He nodded his approval as his eyes slowly moved up her body. She fingered the ends of her hair and caught him looking. "Oh, that. I was due for a cut so I let them talk me into something extra this time. But I didn't use your money. I paid for the hair myself."

"What happened to your glasses?"

"Contact lenses. I lost one and had to get a new prescription made up. Still, I don't wear them as much as I should…" She hesitated. "What's wrong?"

He realized he was staring. He coughed as he pulled his eyes away, lifting his laptop case to the table. "Nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "We'll be boarding soon. We'd better get on with it."

It was time well spent on the ground and in the air. By the time they'd arrived in Vancouver they'd thoroughly reviewed their potential client's specification and finessed their plan of attack. Four was feeling more and more confident even though he knew there was still a mountain of work ahead and a myriad of meetings with their lawyers and fianciers. But they could do it. He'd made the right choice in bringing her. They made a good team.

****PAGEBREAK****

This was Four at his best. In the large meeting room at Dalcorp's offices in Vancouver, Tris listened to his spiel, watched him charm, tease and maneuver the two directors and get them thinking his way. It was like watching a master at work. No wonder he'd built his business to be the success it was. When he spoke he made you believe, the passion for his work and his products coming to the fore.

He held them in the palm of his hand.

It was a new side to Four, one she hadn't witnessed before. Now his obsession with perfection, with driving his staff hard, made some sort of sense. He couldn't be that passionate about his business if the people who worked for him gave him less than their best. His strong, deep voice flowed over the assembled group, his expressive hands adding gestures for emphasis where required, addressing them at their level, not preaching, not patronizing, but taking every one of them with him. No one stopped him for questions or interrupted the flow. He was in his element. He was supreme.

It was impossible not to be impressed. And it wasn't just the way he spoke. The way he held himself and the way he looked had as much to do with it. He'd discarded his jacket and the fine white shirt only emphasized his skin and features.

He looked great in white. Even though his business shirt contrasted in a major way with the Roman armor he'd worn to the ball, both styles suited the man that he was.

She swallowed. He'd looked great in that outfit.

Then again she was sure he'd look great out of it.

Oh Lord, she had to get that out of her head.

"Ms. Prior?"

She came back to the meeting with a jolt to meet Four's quizzical gaze. "Is everything all right?"

She looked around in panic but the others all seemed busy helping themselves to the pots of filtered coffee and jugs of orange juice that had suddenly materialized from nowhere.

"You would like to handle the marketing perspective next up, I take it?"

"Oh yes, of course," she said, her cheeks scorched and with confidence battling for dominance over visions of one gloriously near naked man. "I was simply mentally preparing myself for the task. Excuse me, I think I'll get myself a juice."

Her presentation sailed along, her earlier embarrassment soon forgotten as she got underway. She used the same basic format that she'd shown Four at their meeting just a few weeks ago, expanding it to include additional detail for people less familiar with the company and the product. It seemed to go well and afterwards she fielded questions from the group before they all broke for a late lunch.

Four sidled up alongside her as they were heading for the cars that would take them to the restaurant.

"Well done," he said, bending down to whisper softly into her ear, his hand at her back. "Excellent job." He moved on, the curl of his breath against her skin rippling through her and tripping her heart-rate.

It took a deep breath to know how to respond as she battled to sort out the emotions vying for supremacy inside her. The employee side of her ego couldn't help but swell with pride that he considered she'd done her job well and his faith in her had been vindicated.

By the time she'd realized that she should just smile and thank him he'd already turned away, thoroughly absorbed in a discussion of the finer points of European motor vehicle engineering. She sighed. She'd missed her chance. Or she'd read much too much into his comments in the first place. Whatever, she really needed to relax more.

The afternoon didn't afford that. It was spent in more discussions and a tour of Dalcorp's offices before meetings with the finance and legal specialists that ran late. Again Four steered the proceedings with skill and startling business acumen but did it in such a way that she could see the Dalcorp directors actually believing they were driving the process.

Businesswise, it was all proceeding very well. But with their early start it was a full-on day and all Tris wanted to do by the end was to go to her hotel room and enjoy a long hot soak. There was no time for that though, with a business dinner already arranged. At a pinch there'd be just enough time to shower and change.

Her room back at the hotel was spacious and elegant, luxury all the way, decorated in cool pastels with a wall of windows leading to a balcony, showcasing the beauty of Vancouver. She had half an hour before she was to meet Four in the lobby but she rang home before anything else. The nurse answered on the second ring, passing the phone over without hesitation. Her mother came on, her voice weak but with a bright note she hadn't heard for some time.

"How's it all going?" Tris asked her mother.

"I've been playing mah-jongg with Marjorie," she said, "and what's more I've been winning, so don't you worry about a thing. We're having a lovely time." She said goodbye and hung up on a smile, satisfied that she could at least relax on the domestic front. Tomorrow she'd be home and then, with any luck, she'd be able to relax on the Four front too.

***PAGEBREAK****

She'd done it again. Just like when she'd turned up in the airport lounge that morning, her appearance knocked him for a six. The dress she wore looked more like a coffee-colored sheath, so hugging in the bodice that the tiny diamanté shoestring straps must be there purely for adornment, the floaty skirt constructed in separate panels wafting around her legs as she walked so that with every step the panels shifted slightly, revealing an ever changing and tantalizing glimpse of flesh.

She'd put up her hair in a clasp but he could see the odd tendril floating free, bouncing as she moved towards him, and she'd done something with her face. Make-up? Whatever it was, her eyes looked bigger, her smile looked wider and her lips…

Red and lush, her lips looked like an invitation.

He swallowed. What had happened to his little brown mouse? Not that he didn't approve—she'd obviously made the most of the allowance he'd supplied for just that purpose—it was just that he hadn't been expecting such an amazing transformation.

Such an alluring transformation.

Dinner was fun. Stuart and Shaun Murchison, the directors of Dalcorp, were a dynamic pair in their late twenties, as attractive as they were successful. Both shared the same tanned good looks, with blue eyes and hair bleached by too much sun and surf from the regular iron-man competitions they took part in, competing as much against each other as the clock.

They were also very good hosts, treating their guests to a fabulous seafood dinner on a restaurant terrace overlooking the beach, entertaining them with anecdotes from their long history of competitions and all the while arguing incessantly as to who was the fastest swimmer or could catch the best waves.

"So why aren't either of you married?" she asked, partly for fun, partly curious that neither of the men had been snapped up.

"Ah, that's easy," said Stuart.

"No one's ever been able to swim fast enough to catch us," finished Shaun, and the brothers laughed as if it was an all too well practiced line.

"But," Stuart offered, his eyes glinting wickedly at Tris, "that doesn't mean we're not still looking."

As she laughed her way with them Tris felt the tension of the last few days slipping away. She hadn't enjoyed herself so much for ages. Knowing her mother was being well taken care of, and in her new clothes. she felt a new woman. Certainly to be the only woman at a table of such good-looking men was a novelty. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea coming on this trip after all.

All three men turned heads in the restaurant, making her the object of envy from the waitresses and plenty of the guests besides, but even though all were good-looking there was no argument in Tris' mind as to just which man dominated the proceedings. The brothers were ultrafit and no weaklings, yet Four, all dark brooding looks and latent power inherent in his every move, dwarfed them with his sheer presence.

Her eyes settled on him now as he quietly allowed the brothers full rein at being hosts. Only the scowl between his dark brows betrayed him. No doubt he'd be thinking about the meetings to come, wheels spinning as he developed plans and devised tactics to close the deal.

He turned suddenly and snagged her eyes with a look that sparked and flared and she jerked her head away sharply, feeling caught out, not understanding the sudden aggression in his eyes and trying to focus back on the conversation with a face that bore the heat from his gaze.

"Tell me about your name." Stuart Murchison leaned closer, clearly oblivious to her discomfiture, one arm at the back of her chair, his body turned to hers, his other hand swirling what was left of his glass of premium Hunter Valley shiraz. "Tris. That's so unusual. There must be a story behind it."

Four bristled as he glared at Stuart's back. Okay, so the dinner had gone well, the whole day had gone well, and with a pinch of luck tomorrow Dalcorp would sign on the dotted line, but that didn't mean his assistant was up for grabs. She wasn't part of the deal. Sure, he'd wanted her to look presentable, had even supplied her with the funds to do so. But did she have to have done it quite so successfully?

He stirred his coffee longer than was absolutely necessary and discarded his spoon with a solid clink. The sooner this night ended the better.

Alongside him, Tris smiled in response to Stuart's question and took a sip of her mineral water.

"This is probably going to sound really silly…"

"Of course it won't," said Stuart, stroking her shoulder, "you can tell us."

Four resisted the urge to growl, instead focusing on Tris' response.

"My birth name is Beatrice, and I never really liked it and I had it changed to Tris," Tris answered.

"I think you made an excellent choice," Stuart said.

"Thank you, Stuart." Tris said.

"Call me Stu," he said, "All my friends do."

Her smile widened. "Thank you, Stu."

Four pushed himself out of his chair. "Time to call it a night. Thank you, gentlemen. We'll see ourselves back to the hotel."

Tris looked up, surprised by his sudden action. "Oh, right. Okay."

She made a move to stand but Stuart placed an ironman fist over her arm, pinning her to the chair. "It's still early," he said, his eyes fixed on Tris but the tone of his words aimed directly at Four. "Maybe Tris would like to see a little more of Vancouver nightlife."

His eyes softened. "Would you like that, Tris? Do you like to dance?"

"Um, yes, actually," she said, her voice wavering. "I do."

He turned to Four triumphantly. "So that's settled, then. Sorry you don't feel up to joining us, Four, but we'll see you tomorrow morning at the office. And don't worry, we'll look after Tris for you."

Four battled with the urge to rearrange one smug face, but he wasn't about to undo all the goodwill they'd built up today. Then again, he wasn't about to be out-maneuvered either

He dredged up a laugh, as if he was enjoying the banter, and schooled his voice to sound civilized while inside him his heartbeat pounded like jungle drums. "Another time, perhaps. Sorry to disappoint you, but Ms. Prior and I have some important details to go over tonight. I'm sure you understand."

With that he placed a firm hand under her elbow and levered her from her chair. Stuart was left with no choice but to remove his hand from her arm though he made no pretence that he was happy about it.

"What was that all about?"

She was sick of the silent treatment, sick of the brooding male who had sprawled over the taxi seat like a despot, arrogant limbs taking up space as if he owned it, sick of the way he'd frog-marched her to her door like a prisoner to be locked in for the night. As his silence continued her anger grew and grew, simmering away, fueled by the heat he was giving off with his black mood.

"What was what all about?"

"Don't give me that," she said as she inserted her card key into the reader. "You acted like some caveman back there at the restaurant."

Down the corridor the lift doors binged open, spilling a load of camera-wielding tourists into the hallway.

The lock clicked open. Four grabbed the handle and turned. "Inside," he said, half shoving her across the threshold, closing the door behind them.

"Excuse me," she said, wheeling around to face him, hands on hips. "What the hell do you think you're doing now?"

"Keeping our private business just that. Private. There's no need to share it with a busload of tourists."

"Well, don't make yourself comfortable then because what I have to say to you will only take a moment. You had no right to come on like that back there.'"

"I'm your boss. I had every right."

"Is that so? Then where's this important work we need to go over then? You never said anything about it before. You made that up."

"We have important meetings tomorrow and you know it."

"Yes, with people you did your best to completely alienate tonight. What on earth were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I brought you up here to work with me, not to flirt with the customers."

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. "I wasn't flirting!"

"Come on. You had Stu-baby draped all over you like a gorilla."

"He was being nice, that's all."

"Nice? Is that what you call it when someone's angling to get into your pants?"

"How dare you?" The crack of her palm against his cheek was as loud as it was satisfying. Her victory was short-lived though as he snared her still open hand in one swift-moving fist. His other hand stroked the region, a red weal already brightening under his fingers.

"You deserved that." She spat the words out over a gasping breath, refusing to give in to her first instinct to apologize.

He looked down at her, dark fire burning in his eyes, his breathing strangely calm under the circumstances. "And this," he said, pulling on her wrist so that she collided full length with him, "is what you deserve."

Still half off balance, she felt his arm surround her and haul her tightly against him as his head dipped lower. Panic, outrage and sheer bliss all welled within her as his lips meshed with hers; panic that he would somehow recognize her as the woman he'd met at the ball, to outrage that he could treat her this way, and sheer unadulterated bliss that he had.

Since their encounter at the ball she'd dreamed of nothing else but to be in his arms once more. Those dreams had ended in disappointed awakenings and frustrated tomorrows. But now he was here, really here, holding her, kissing her and it was no dream.

Her thin sand-washed satin dress might not have been there. She could feel all of him, the length of him, the heat of him, searing her through the fine fabric.

He let go of her wrist and his hand went behind her head, drawing her closer, holding her firm and somewhere his anger turned into something else. It was desire she could feel from him now, a hot, urgent thing that was as tangible as the flesh beneath her hands and it called to her, tempting her, insisting she give herself up to it.

Why shouldn't she?

It would be so easy.

She knew the pleasure she'd find. She'd only had a sample of what he had to offer, but there was no doubt there was so much more that she'd like to experience. Why should it matter if she did?

But how could she?

Things were complicated between them already. Already there were secrets. Already there was too much to explain. This wasn't going to help.

Besides, he didn't want her. He'd made that perfectly plain when he'd set the boundaries for this trip. What was happening now had more to do with his competitive nature and showing her who was boss than any real interest he had in her. Because he'd made it perfectly clear that he had none.

And that was the killer punch. If she'd thought for a moment that he felt something for her other than pure animal lust, if she thought she had something else going for her in his eyes other than simply being available, then yes, she'd like nothing more than to give herself up to the pleasures he promised.

But this was no ball where he had no idea of her identity. This was no masquerade. Here there was no avoidance of the truth. He'd never wanted her and, whatever his motives, he didn't really want her now.

This was simply wrong.

His hands slipped to her shoulders, sliding her thin straps away. She gasped as his hands followed the curve of her shoulders, around to the front, lower, capturing her breasts, thumbs hooking in her bodice top, easing it lower.

Her hands found his chest as she dragged her face away from his. She pushed but his hands caught her and pulled her back. She pushed again, harder, turning her face so that he couldn't kiss her.

"No," she said. "Stop this. Just because you bought these clothes don't assume you own what's in them.'

"The clothes are yours," he muttered, ignoring her jibe, his breath hot and persuasive against her skin. "Keep them."

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for strength.

"You promised!"

His head lifted but he didn't let go. "What did I promise?"

"Not to maul me. You promised me there was no chance you would seduce me on this trip. You made it perfectly clear there was not a snowball's chance in hell—remember? So let me go—now."

He had promised, he remembered. Why the hell had he done that?

His arms slackened their grip around her and she eased herself away, hitching up her shoulder straps before flicking back her hair with her fingers. Her face was flushed, her lips bruised and swollen from his attention and he ached to take her back into his arms and finish what he'd begun. He'd made that promise to someone else, though—someone else who wore ill-fitting brown suits and glasses that wouldn't be out of place on a welder. He hadn't made that guarantee to the woman standing in front of him. He would have been mad to have done that.

"I think you should leave," she said, not moving, clutching her arms over her chest like a shield. "Now."

He took a deep breath. He would go. After all, he had promised.

But he definitely wouldn't make that mistake again.

* * *

 _ **(A/N-Also I have a special project that will start tomorrow and end on Feb 14, I'll give you a hint...Valentine's week.)**_


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